He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. Seeing John in Chemistry was the worst. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. “I love you, Ann Veronica. I promise not to do it again. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate.
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